


A Clear Vision

by angstytimelord



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-16
Updated: 2015-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-12 17:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1193454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angstytimelord/pseuds/angstytimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will slowly discovers that his vision isn't as 20/20 as he might think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Crutch

"Will, why do you insist on wearing those terrible glasses when you have no need of them?"

Will's head jerked up at Hannibal's question; his mouth opened, then closed again. He didn't know what to say to those words; he hadn't thought that anyone would notice that the glasses he always wore were only plain glass, not prescription lenses.

Of course, he should have realized that Hannibal would be astute enough to see. The man seemed to see right into his soul sometimes.

And he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time staring at him, Will thought, shifting uncomfortably i his chair. Hannibal seemed to be able to draw his secrets out without even trying, even when Will hadn't thought he was looking for them.

Hannibal had a way of seeing right through him.

There was no use in trying to keep secrets from this man, and he knew it. But still, he didn't have to give up _everything_ to that penetrating stare.

If he did, then he'd have no shield to hide behind, nothing to keep him safe. He wasn't going to relinquish that protection, no matter how much he might want to let down all of his walls and trust Hannibal. He didn't need the trust _that_ much.

He didn't need to trust someone he barely knew. That would be foolish. But there was a part of him that wanted to. The lure was _so_ seductive.

There was something about Hannibal's eyes that drew him in, made him _want_ to let his guard down and trust completely, even though he knew that would be folly. But he was so tempted to do it, so pulled in by Hannibal's eyes, his smile ....

 _No_ , Will told himself, pulling back with an effort. _Never trust a smile. Smiles lure. They can get people into trouble. You don't need that._

The last thing he needed was to let himself be drawn in by a smile.

Smiles were deceptive. His own was rarely shown, and he couldn't remember the last time he had _really_ smiled, a smile that was wide and open and unguarded. Will didn't think he'd done that in years. Maybe not since he was a child.

Hannibal's smile didn't seem strained or deceptive, but he couldn't be sure of it. So he wasn't going to let himself trust. Not yet. It was too soon.

He shrugged at the question, squirming a little when he answered. "I don't like to make eye contact with anyone. I guess you've already noticed that. So yeah, the glasses are a shield against the world. I don't need them, but they give me more .... confidence."

Okay, so maybe that wasn't the correct word, but it worked for now.

"Why would you need to give yourself more confidence, Will?" Hannibal asked, his head tilted to one side. "I'd say you had enough of that already."

Maybe that was the truth. He _did_ have confidence in his abilities as a teacher; he'd never had any problems in that area. And his abilities in the field ... well, he didn't really need more confidence in that area, either. He knew what he could do.

He also knew what people thought of those abilities, and that they set him apart, marked him as some kind of freak for all the world to gawk at.

He hated being seen in that way. In a way, he hated the work he did in the field; the only good thing about it, in his opinion, was that he could save lives. He hated being seen as a weirdo, as Jack Crawford's freak, who performed like a trained monkey at crime scenes.

Okay, so maybe _everybody_ didn't see him like that, Will told himself with an inward sigh. Hannibal didn't seem to. This man seemed to be respectful of his ability, instead of being a little afraid of it and feeling that he should keep his distance.

Maybe that was one of the things that made Hannibal so seductive and attractive to him. The fact that this man didn't pull away, didn't view him as being odd or strange.

But then again, Hannibal himself was a little strange, wasn't he? There was so much about himself that he seemed to keep hidden. Will could sense that this man had a lot of protections, a lot of walls up around himself, and was _always_ on his guard.

Hannibal slid close to the edge of his seat, regarding Will with slightly narrowed eyes. Will's breath caught i his throat; he couldn't help wondering what the other man was going to do.

Hannibal reached out, plucking the glasses away and examining them.

"You don't need to wear these with me, Will," he said, handing them back to the younger man and shaking his head. "Glasses are supposed to clear your vision, but when you are here with me, they will only cloud it. I don't believe you need these."

"I'm not going to stop wearing them," Will protested. "I feel comfortable with them. And if you say it's some kind of crutch, I don't care. I _need_ that crutch."

Hannibal shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Be that as it may, you do _not_ them here, when we are talking alone together," he said, his voice clipped and controlled. "They will only obscure your vision here, not enhance it."

Will sat back as he put the glasses back on, pondering those words.

Maybe Hannibal was right. Maybe he didn't need those glasses here, when they were talking. Maybe he didn't need a shield to protect him from Hannibal.

After all, this man only wanted what was best for him, didn't he? He wanted to delve into the deep recesses of Will's psyche, to find out what made him so odd. He wanted to uncover things that Will would rather keep hidden, but that was his _job_.

Hannibal wasn't out to get him. Maybe no one was, not really. But given his past experiences, he preferred to err on the side of caution.

Still, Hannibal was right. He needed to let his psychiatrist uncover all of his complex layers, not try to hide under them. While he was here, while they were talking, he would do away with the glasses. He didn't need them, not for these private moments.

Slowly, he took the glasses off and put them in his pocket, glancing up at Hannibal. As quickly as he made the eye contact, he flinched and looked away from it.

All right, so there were some things that he still had to work on.

This was the one place where he didn't have to hide behind a shield, and the one person who didn't expect him to do so. He could be himself here with Hannibal, with no fear of recriminations. He could relax, and maybe, just maybe, he could let his guard down.

He couldn't do that around anyone else, Will thought as he relaxed back into his chair and finally met the other man's gaze. He couldn't truly relax with anyone else.

But he wasn't going to give up all of his secrets just yet, Will cautioned himself. Even though Hannibal was his psychiatrist -- off the record, of course -- there were still some things he couldn't bring himself to talk about, some things that were still too personal.

But who knew? Maybe, in time, they wouldn't be.


	2. Clouded Vision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wonders if he's starting to see his burgeoning relationship with Hannibal as clearly as he could be.

Will parked his car in front of his house, but didn't move to get out.

Could Hannibal have been right with all that he'd said during their session tonight? Was he using his glasses as nothing more than shield to hide from the world, rather than simply using them to help him avoid eye contact with others, as he always claimed?

Was he using those glass to hide himself away? Was that his _real_ reason for wearing them when he didn't need them for his eyesight?

He sighed softly, not wanting to admit that Hannibal was probably right. He was being a coward about facing the world head-on, even though he didn't like to think of himself in that light. He was trying to turn and run, trying to hide, rather than being in the world.

There were times when the word seemed far too close, and he didn't want it around.

All right, so maybe it _was_ cowardly. Maybe he had a yellow streak on his back a mile wide, a streak that he refused to remove.

The truth was, he didn't _want_ the world to be close to him. The more he saw of it, the more he was working in the field and utilizing his empathic abilities, the less he liked it. He didn't want the world near him. He saw too much of the ugly side of it on a daily basis.

Will didn't want that part of the world to rub off on him. He didn't to be inundated with it, didn't want it to be a part of him. That was why he hid behind his glasses; if he didn't look too closely at the world, then maybe it wouldn't look back at him.

He felt that he was seeing his actions with clearer eyes now that he and Hannibal had talked about some of this reasons for wearing the glasses all the time.

His clouded vision had been cleared. He wondered if those clouds were gone for good.

He hoped they were. He wanted his vision to be clear, especially where it concerned Hannibal. Something told him that this man was going to play a major role in his life in the future, and he wanted to be completely clear-headed when he dealt with his psychiatrist.

Will didn't know just what role Hannibal would play in his life, or exactly how he felt about the other man. But he was willing to move ahead with their relationship.

Relationship? That was a funny way to look at it, he told himself with a frown as he opened the car door and got out. They didn't have a relationship. Well, nothing more than a professional one. And he supposed that they were starting to become friends on top of that.

Beyond that, he would need much less clouded vision to see.


	3. Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has his dogs, his home, and his work. For him, that's enough. Or is it?

Will sighed as he turned from the freeway onto the road that led into Vienna, and from there to Wolf Trap. He was on his way home after a session with Hannibal, and the last words that the other man had said still lingered in his mind.

_"Will, maybe you only adopt so many stray dogs as a sublimation for a relationship in your life."_

That was ridiculous, he scoffed as he drove, frowning without realizing that he was doing so. He didn't even _want_ a relationship. He was fine just the way he was.

Why would he want a relationship to screw up his life? From what he could see, all they did was cause a lot of stress and strain that he didn't want to deal with .He had enough of that just from his job, from doing too much field work when he really didn't want to.

But the hell of it was that if he _didn't_ work in the field, lives would be lost. And if he could save lives, then he felt obligated to continue.

So he was teaching less, and in the field more. That was one reason he appreciated all of his dogs when he got home, Will told himself, smiling at the thought. They gave him companionship and unconditional love at the end of a long, hard day.

He liked coming home to his dogs. He very much doubted if he would like coming home to a person who would nag him and bother him nearly as much.

But then, if he loved them, it wouldn't seem like nagging, would it?

That was beside the point. He didn't have anyone in his life to love, and he didn't need anyone. He was happy the way he was.

He had his dogs, he had his home, he had his work, and he had a few friends. That was all it took to make him happy, he told himself firmly. He didn't need a relationship. He didn't _want_ a relatiionship. That would only complicate his life and make trouble.

He had enough problems to deal with from all the things he saw on a daily basis when he was working in the field. He didn't need more.

Will sighed again, Hannibal's words echoing in his mind.

So what if he adopted dogs because he wanted company? He lived out in the middle of nowhere. Of course it was nice to have pets around.

And the dogs kept him safe. True, a couple of them were small dogs and wouldn't be much in the way of protection, but Winston, as well as Oliver the husky, were large dogs. WIll was sure that if he had to face any kind of threat, those dogs would be right there beside him.

He wasn't the only person who chose to have a dog -- or, in his case, several dogs -- for companionship. A lot of people liked dogs. It wasn't strange.

Using his dogs as a sublimation for a relationship that he didn't want was a ridiculous idea. There was no _attraction_ , for god's sake.

Of course, he knew that wasn't what Hannibal meant. What his psychiatrist had been referring to was that he seemed to substitute the unconditional love of his pets for the love of a partner, a love that he didn't feel he was entitled to.

How had Hannibal realized that? How had the infuriating man been able to look within him and see that he was lonely, yet didn't feel that he was worthy of a relationship?

Hannibal seemed to know him better than anyone ever had.

It was more than a little scary to realize that Hannibal had such insight into hm, insight that he had never thought anyone would even want to possess.

He'd never thought of himself as a particularly interesting person, but for some reason, Hannibal seemed to think he was. After this last session, he'd been invited to dinner at Hannibal's home tomorrow night, and he had already accepted the invitation.

Will wasn't sure if that was a mistake or not, given the fact that he seemed to have an attraction to the older man that was growing by leaps and bounds.

It was terrifying to feel that kind of attraction.

It didn't bother him that Hannibal was a man. He'd long ago accepted that he was more attracted to men than women; he was comfortable with those feelings.

But being attracted to his psychiatrist? That was unethical, wasn't it? Well, maybe not on his part, but it certainly would be on Hannibal's if he was also attracted, and if he acted on those feelings. Somehow, Will had the feeling that he would.

But Hannibal couldn't be attracted to him; he'd never shown any indication of it. No, the attraction had to be all on Will's side.

As he turned onto the road that led to his house, Will's lips twisted in a wry smile. Maybe Hannibal was right, and he only had so many dogs because he was trying to make up for the lack of a relationship in his life. But he didn't think he was the only person who did so.

The unconditional love of his dogs was enough for him. He didn't need a relationship. He didn't need anyone in his life. He was just fine on his own.

Unless the person in his life was Hannibal Lecter.

Will stopped the car in front of his house, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He couldn't have a relationship with Hannibal, no matter how much he might want one. He had his work, his home, and his dogs. That would _have_ to be enough.

He couldn't have more. He couldn't wish for more. If he did, then he was a fool, because he wasn't going to get what he wanted. it simply wasn't in the cards.

Sighing, he got out of the car, then bounded up the front porch steps and unlocked the door, smiling as the dogs came to greet him.

Yes, this was enough for him. He was satisfied. He had to be.

Because there was no way he could ever have what he truly wanted.


	4. Intrigued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Hannibal's mind, not his nonexistent looks, that intrigues Will so much.

Why was Hannibal such a weakness for him?

It certainly wasn't because of the other man's looks, which were, in truth, nonexistent. Will's nose wrinkled in distaste as he thought of Hannibal's face. He found the other man ugly, just on the far side of repulsive, if he was honest about it.

Hannibal had small, squinty eyes in a reptilian, ratlike face. His face looked, to Will, more like a grinning death's-head than a human being.

He was one of the ugliest people Will had ever seen, so that wasn't the attraction at all. No, it wasn't the ugly face in any way, Will mused. It was the intricate twists and turns of Hannibal's mind that intrigued him, the fact that this man had such an interesting way of thinking.

Will wasn't sure if that bothered him or not.

He didn't like feeling that Hannibal had the ability to look inside his mind. That was horribly unsettling, to feel that someone could read his thoughts so well.

But somehow, Hannibal seemed able to do just that, and Will didn't understand how or why. It wasn't as if he and Hannibal had much in common; in fact, they were complete polar opposites in every way. Nothing about him was like Hannibal at all.

But still, somehow, there was an affinity between them. Will couldn't help but wonder why; he couldn't begin to fathom why it felt as though Hannibal was the only person who understood him, the only one who could get into his mind and feel comfortable with what he saw there.

Was he just as comfortable with Hannibal's mind? He couldn't say one way or another, because he'd never been allowed all the way inside it.

He had the feeling that he never would be.

And maybe, at the end of it all, _that_ was why Hannibal was his weakness. Because he was utterly intrigued by the other man, and because he was absolutely certain that he would never be allowed to satisfy his curiosity about Hannibal.

It was horribly frustrating, and at the same time, alluring. That curiosity was his greatest weakness, one that he didn't think he would ever be able to conquer.

Instead of seeing Hannibal more clearly as they slowly came to know each other better, he felt that his vision was becoming more and more obscured. While at the same time, he was becoming more and more transparent to Hannibal's eyes.

He had to wonder just how the other man saw _him_.


	5. Lead in the Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every session that Will has with Hannibal finds them circling each other in a slow, rhythmic dance.

"Have you thought about what we talked about the last time you were here, Will?"

Will didn't answer, preferring to keep quiet at the moment. Ah, there it was, the look of annoyance that would always cross Hannibal's face when he didn't speak up right away. it was only a flash, gone as soon as the expression had appeared.

But he'd seen it. He _knew_ that it annoyed Hannibal when he wasn't a good little patient bowing down to his psychiatrist's supposedly superior intellect.

Then again, Hannibal wasn't _really_ his psychiatrist, was he? He was just someone who Jack had asked to do a psychological profile of his pet freak. Nothing more. Hannibal might be claiming this session was in a professional capacity, but it wasn't.

And they both knew it.

This session was Hannibal poking and prodding, searching for a way into Will's mind. And it was Will trying to dance away from that searchlight.

It was a calm little dance, a civilized one. There was no running, no screaming, no feinting to one side or the other. But it was a dance nonetheless, with Will sidestepping questions and asking his own to counter them. It was a game of one-upmanship.

It was a game that he didn't intend to let Hannibal win. This man thought so much of his own intelligence that it would be satisfying to bring him down a peg or two.

Or a hundred, Will thought with an inward smirk. He was a match for Hannibal when it came to mind games, and he was certain that the man sitting across from him knew it.

He took his time answering, and when he did, he knew that his words didn't please Hannibal. "I hadn't really thought about it much. And it's not going to change what I do. I'm not going to stop wearing the glasses. I like them, and I'm comfortable with them."

Hannibal shook his head slowly, a frown furrowing his brow. "You hide behind them, Will. That's not good for you. It's not healthy."

Will's brows raised in both a question and a challenge.

 _You mean that it's not good for you. It doesn't let you make eye contact with me without the barrier of glass between us, and you feel like it keeps you out of my head. That's right, it does._ That thought made Will feel victorious, if only for a moment.

Aloud he only said, "That's _your_ opinion, Dr. Lecter. But it doesn't happen to be mine. The glasses are staying on."

He could see the flash of annoyance cross Hannibal's features again, but this time, the other man didn't say anything. He merely leaned back in his chair with a curt nod, folding his hand in his lap as though he was simply waiting for Will to speak again.

It was apparently his turn to lead in the dance.


	6. Lifting the Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will doesn't want anyone to see behind the impassive mask he wears -- but not for the reasons he's giving Hannibal.

Will raised his eyebrows, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled beneath his chin in the same position that Hannibal so often took.

"If I don't wear the glasses, then it's easier for people to look me in the eyes," he said, keeping his voice steady and measured. "It's said that eyes are the windows to the soul, and my soul isn't somewhere that I want a lot of people to have free rein in."

Hannibal nodded slowly, leaning back and exhaling.

"I can understand that, Will," he said, his own voice soft and almost persuasive. "But you have to realise that hiding behind those glasses won't protect you."

"Are you so sure that I want to protect myself from others?" Will drawled, deliberately keeping his tone light. "Maybe I want to protect the rest of the world from seeing into my soul. After all, with everything I see on a daily basis, there's a lot of darkness there."

Hannibal nodded again, his brows lifting in question this time. "You could be right about that, Will. You've seen a great deal of the ugliness in the world."

"And I wear a mask to protect the rest of the world from it," he said, almost feeling triumphant. :I don't want other people to become .... tainted by what they might be able to see in me if they were to look into the eyes that have seen all those things."

"You don't really believe that, do you?" Hannibal asked, tilting his head to one side. "That people could be somehow tainted by looking into your eyes?"

Of course he didn't. The very idea was absurd.

But he wasn't going to tell Hannibal that. He wanted to keep this up, to see just how far Hannibal would to try and reach behind the mask that Will wore.

That mask wasn't slipping, not if Will could help it; it was going to stay firmly in place, and neither Hannibal nor anyone else would be able to see behind it. He didn't want anyone seeing into his soul; that much had been the absolute truth.

But not because of the things he'd seen. Not because he was worried about others being tainted. Because he didn't want anyone to see what resided there.

He didn't want anyone to see how lonely he was.

Yes, Hannibal had told the truth when he'd said that Will saw a lot of the ugliness in the world on a daily basis. That was a given.

But that wasn't something that other people needed to be protected from. People ate that shit up, Will told himself. They loved to be shocked, and to be repulsed. They would probably welcome the chance to see into his mind, to be repelled by the things he had to look at.

He didn't want people to see into the core of him because he didn't want them to see behind his mask, the mask that made him seem like everyone else.

He didn't want anyone to see the ferocious loneliness that he kept hidden there, the ache to have someone in his life who was more than a casual friend.

If that loneliness was revealed, then he would be vulnerable. And he would probably be expected to be more social, to be around people to assuage that loneliness. He couldn't do that. It was a paradox, wasn't it? he thought, holding back a rueful smile.

He wanted someone in his life, but he didn't want to socialize to try and find that person. He wanted them to drop into his lap like manna from heaven.

And that definitely wasn't going to happen.

No one was just going to appear magically in his life. At least, not the kind of person he wanted to have in his life, someone who would understand him.

No, he'd have to _look_ for a person like that -- and he didn't think he'd ever be able to find them. Any person who became involved with him would have to be someone very special, and Will wasn't sure that he would recognize them if he _did_ happen to run across them.

They'd have to be able to see behind the mask he wore, and that would be practically impossible. Maybe he wouldn't even be able to remove it.

Maybe he would hide behind that mask forever.

It was hard to let anyone get behind that mask; he hadn't done so in years. Maybe he never would; it never seemed like the right time to start.

A part of him actually wanted to let Hannibal see behind that mask, to let it slip away, a little at a time, until it had completely fallen and this man saw him for all that he was, saw into his soul. But something told him that it wasn't a good idea.

After all, he could sense that Hannibal wore a mask, too. And something deep inside told him that he didn't want to see behind it.

He couldn't help feeling that if Hannibal's mask fell away, he wouldn't like what he saw there. And that if he let himself get too close to this man, let himself see Hannibal with a clear vision, that he would be repulsed by all that he would discover.

So he didn't try to get behind that mask, and he kept his own firmly in place. But there were times when he knew it slipped, even though he tried to hold it firm.

There were times when Hannibal _did_ get a glimpse into his soul.

Will tried to keep his mask in place, but there were times when Hannibal managed to lift it -- and Will was afraid that it was happening more and more often lately.

He didn't want that mask lifted. He didn't want anyone seeing inside his soul. Especially not Hannibal, who had an uncanny way of knowing what he was thinking, and seemed to have no qualms about voicing those thoughts in these sessions.

It was disconcerting to know that someone could read him so easily when his mask wasn't firmly in place. And he didn't want it happening often, if at all.

So he kept the glasses on, and kept the mask in place as best he could.

As those dark eyes assessed him again, Will found himself wishing that he could make doubly sure his mask was in place, and keep it from slipping. But he had a disconcerting feeling that Hannibal was already looking behind that mask, seeing much more than Will wanted him to view.

But he couldn't get behind Hannibal's mask at all.


	7. Insight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will isn't sure that he wants to view the tempting darkness that lurks behind Hannibal's eyes.

There was nothing but darkness behind Hannibal's eyes.

Will had to suppress a shudder when his gaze met Hannibal's; he didn't want to know what was hidden behind those eyes, didn't want to see into that darkness.

There was something hidden in the depths of those eyes that terrified him. Will was sure that if he were to come face to face with what Hannibal kept hidden, he would be struck speechless, unable to voice the silent scream that would be stuck in his throat.

There was something about Hannibal's eyes that promised so much, yet he was afraid to reach out for what that candid gaze offered.

Whatever it was, it was tantalizingly out of his reach.

Did he _really_ want to know what Hannibal could offer him? Was it something that he would be able to embrace, to make a part of who he was?

Or was it something that he would back away from with a shudder of repulsion, then turn and run as fast as he could? Will couldn't help thinking that it was the latter; nothing that Hannibal could offer him would be easy for him to accept.

But yet, the thought of finding out just what was hidden behind that enigmatic gaze was so alluring, so tempting. A part of him wanted to rip that mask away.

If he did, then he had the feeling that he'd be faced with something he wasn't ready to see, something that he couldn't fathom as being quite _real_.

And he couldn't quite figure out just what Hannibal wanted him to do. Did Hannibal want him to rip away the mask he habitually wore, and see what lay beneath? Or did he want to keep that secret hidden, so close and yet still so far away from Will's grasp?

He didn't know what the other man was thinking, and that bothered him. He wanted to have more insight into Hannibal than he did.

After all, Hannibal seemed to have no problem seeing into _him_.

Was there some kind of corresponding darkness in _him_ that Hannibal could discern, something that he himself wasn't aware of?

The thought chilled Will and made him shudder involuntarily. Oh, he knew that every person had a light and a dark side; he didn't doubt that for a moment. But he didn't want to think that his dark side was so near the surface that someone else could see it clearly.

Though he was sure that if anyone could see that darkness in him, it would be Hannibal. He didn't know why, but he was more sure of that than he was of anything.

Will didn't know if that thought felt comforting -- or terrifying.


	8. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal realizes that it may become more difficult in the future to keep his secrets hidden from Will.

It wasn't as easy as he'd thought it would be to look into Will's mind, Hannibal thought with a frown. He'd had to work harder it than he'd expected to.

Was Will blocking him in some way? Was that even possible?

He had thought that he knew Will Graham intimately, but now, he was wondering if he had been mistaken. The young man seemed to be backing away from him.

Even though Will wore those glasses -- misleading as they were -- he had no problem seeing what he needed to see. Hannibal couldn't help wondering if Will was trying to look more deeply into him, and as a result, was withholding Hannibal's access to his own mind.

Will had been unusually devious lately -- when Hannibal asked him direct quest8ions, he usually deflected them with a well-placed question of his own.

Did Will have any idea of the secrets he was hiding?

No, he didn't think that was the case. If Will knew of his activities, Hannibal had no doubt that he would not only be backing away, but running in the other direction.

After Will had turned him in to the authorities, that was, he told himself wryly. He had no illusions about how the young man would feel if he knew of all the things Hannibal had done; Will's well-developed sense of justice, of right and wrong, would prevail.

Will wasn't the sort of person who could overlook what he would see as high crimes. Regardless of whatever his personal feelings might be, he would do the right thing.

Even if the right thing meant gong against the dictates of his own heart.

Hannibal couldn't help but admire him for that. Will was the kind of person who would always do what was right, and that was admirable, in its own way.

But it would be extremely detrimental to him. Hannibal sighed softly at the thought, reluctantly admitting to himself that there might well come a day when he would be forced to end Will's life, just to keep himself safe. Though he wouldn't do so easily.

He didn't want to lose Will. No, he wanted to keep this young man by his side, to explore what he was sure could be a much deeper and more intimate relationship.

Therefore, he had to hide his secrets well.

Those secrets could be the undoing of all that he had planned for himself and Will in the future. He couldn't get careless and let them be uncovered.

Hannibal was sure that Will cared for him, that the young man had feelings for him beyond that of a mere psychiatrist and patient, and even beyond that of friendship. With only a few small series of pushes, he was positive that those feelings would grow and blossom.

Were his own feelings for Will of the same persuasion? He couldn't be sure, but he _thought_ they were. Or that they easily could be.

He didn't want to think of those feelings now. It wasn't the proper time.

But soon, he would have to study those feelings more closely, come to some kind of conclusion about them. He would have to decide just how far he could take this.

He had given himself a time limit; if he couldn't determine Will's feelings within the next few months, and make up his own mind about how to act on them, then Will would have to be dispatched. As much as he'd regret doing so, he had no other choice.

At the moment, the problem was just how he was going to make his way into Will's mind to determined just what those feelings might be, and how deeply they ran.

Will was making that rather difficult to do at the present time.

But that wouldn't last forever, Hannibal told himself with a soft smile. It wouldn't take him much longer to find out just where Will's emotions lay.

And then, he would know exactly which path to guide Will along.


	9. Running on Empty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will needs a vacation before he's completely burnt out.

He needed a vacation.

Will sat back in his chair, removing his glasses and rubbing at his eyes. He was tired, more so than he should be considering that he hadn't worked in the field today.

As much as he loved teaching, there were times when it could be more exhausting than going out with Jack and looking at a crime scene and a dead body. The questions that he had to field about the work he did with Jack, about his empathy, could be hard to answer.

He didn't want to deal with them. It would be so much easier if Jack hadn't made his empathy public, if people didn't know about what he could do.

It would save him a lot of embarrassing questions if people didn't know, and save him a lot of time that hs had to spend explaining what his abilities could and couldn't achieve. There were times when he wished that no one knew, and that he didn't do what he did for a living.

Itwould be so much easier simply to be a teacher, as he'd been before, with no field work and his abilities kept under wraps.

He sighed softly, rubbing at his eyes again.

That wasn't possible now, and he knew it. Jack wasn't going to let him simply back off from field work, not when his abilities could save lives and catch killers. He would keep pushing, even though he knew that this was really getting to Will.

And the truth was, a part of him _wanted_ to keep working in the field. He knew that he saved lives, and that gave him a sense of accomplishment.

He liked knowing that he'd done some good in the world. He liked knowing that he could help people, that his abilities were being used well. It was something that he needed, to use those abilities and extend them, to know that they were doing something productive.

But it was apparent that he was getting burnt out.

He had to wonder just how long he could last doing this, how long he could use his abilities before they would begin to waver, or not work at all.

Somehow, he doubted _that_ was ever going to happen. He would always eb able to get inside killers' minds; he didn't think that ability was ever going to completely disappear. But there were times when he wished that it wouldn't always be so .... pronounced.

If only Jack would give him a rest, stop pushing him so hard. But no, Jack saw him as a kind of work dog, something to be used to the fullest extent that it could be.

He didn't even think that Jack saw him as a human being most of the time. Jack seemed to think that he was some kind of automaton that ran on batteries.

Those batteries were starting to run down; he could feel it. He wanted to insist to Jack that he was in dire need of a vacation, that he needed to get away from all of this, if only for a while. He needed at least a brief respite, a relief from the stress.

Would Jack understand that? Or did he truly see Will as just some kind of wind-up toy, his pet freak that could perform on command whenever he was expected to?

Will sighed again, closing his eyes. He didn't know what Jack thought.

He wondered what Hannibal would think of all this if he told him. He'd probably say that Will definitely _did_ need a vacation, but he wouldn't come up with any tips on how to tell Jack the same thing. Hannibal never made things too easy.

He would simply state in that calm voice that it appeared Will needed to get away for a while, to distance himself from his work and try to relax.

Will's lips twisted in a wry smile. That was exactly what he needed; if Hannibal did use those words, he'd be hitting the proverbial nail right on the head. He needed a vacation, a getaway, some time alone to let his mind be emptied of all his professional worries.

The problem was figuring out just how to ask for that.

He couldn't just come out and say, "Jack, I need a vacation. Now." Or could he? Did he have that right, to tell his boss when he was being worked too hard?

Of course he did, he told himself firmly. He had to let Jack know that he was in danger of burning out. If that happened, then he would be no good to Jack any more, and he couldn't do the work that his abilities suited him for. That wouldn't be good for anyone involved.

Or maybe it would be better for _him_ if he backed off on the field work as much as he could, helping out only when he was truly needed.

Jack didn't need him for _every_ case, even though he seemed to think that he did. It was quicker and easier for Jack to have him around -- but he wasn't _needed_. Some of these cases, Will was sure that Jack and the team could work out on their own.

He was becoming too integral to them, too much a part of their daily work. That had to stop. He had to back away from it, for his own good.

If he didn't, then he was not only going to burnt out, but crash.

Nobody wanted that, least of all him. And he was sure that Hannibal would agree with him on this. Taking a vacation, then backing away somewhat, was the right thing to do.

Will sat up a little straighter in his chair, looking back down at the papers in front of him. Now that he'd made the decision, he felt much better about things. He would talk to Jack tomorrow, tell him that he most definitely needed a break.

And then, he would start to back away, slowly but surely. It was best for all involved, most of all for himself. It was what he had to do to keep himself intact.

He felt as though he was running on empty, and needed to refuel as soon as possible.


	10. Untold Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wonders just what Hannibal writes about him in that little notebook he keeps on his lap during their sessions.

"I think a vacation would be a very good idea, Will."

Hannibal nodded, crossing one leg over the other as he looked at Will. He jotted a few words down in the notebook on his lap, making Will raise one eyebrow.

"One of these days, I'd like to see whatever it is that you write in that notebook about me," he said, keeping his tone light. "After all, it's _my_ therapy, so shouldn't I know just what it is that you think about me? If it's something bad, then maybe knowing what it is could help me."

Hannibal shook his head, smiling slightly as he glanced back up at Will. "No, Will, I don't believe that you need to see anything that I'm writing down. And it isn't anything bad."

"Well, that's a relief." Will couldn't keep the annoyance out of his voice.

Was he overreacting to such a little thing? Maybe the lack of sleep and feeling overworked was getting to him more than he knew. He really _did_ need a vacation.

He knew that he sounded querulous, and he hated that. The last thing he wanted was for Hannibal to think that he was acting like a spoiled child who was going to throw a temper tantrum because he couldn't get what he wanted. But he _did_ want to see that notebook.

He couldn't help feeling curious as to what his therapist wrote down about him. Whatever it was, it would give him some insight into how Hannibal saw him.

That was one thing he'd been curious about ever since they started these sessions, but it wasn't as though he could simply ask Hannibal such a question.

What was he going to say, anyway? _"What do you really think of me?"_ sounded silly, and it wasn't as if he'd get any kind of an answer by being that direct, anyway. He didn't think Hannibal was going to tell him what he thought; he'd keep his opinions to himself.

Though one thing he was fairly sure that he _could_ get from Hannibal was an honest assessment of his mental state. Maybe he should ask about that.

No, on second thought, he wasn't sure that he wanted to know.

If Hannibal thought badly of him, it was best if he didn't know the truth. It would color their relationship as a psychiatrist and patient, and not in a good way.

He would be able to keep himself from resenting the fact that Hannibal didn't see him in such a good light, and he'd want to force himself to change, which wasn't the point of their sessions. The point was for him to discover more about himself, not to change who he was.

So it was best if that little notebook kept its untold secrets. He didn't need to know what was written in it. It was much better if those secrets were never revealed.

Even so, he knew that he would never stop wondering until he found out.


	11. Burning Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will can't decide if his vacation is helping him recharge, or making him feel even more burnt out.

Maybe most people wouldn't see this as a vacation, but Will certainly did.

He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his knees, drawing them up under his chin as he gazed out into the still waters of the lake spread out before him.

So he had decided not to go anywhere, but had instead opted to take his two weeks of vacation time here at home in Wolf Trap. This was the place the loved best, the most relaxing place he knew; there wasn't any other destination he'd wanted to head for.

Hannibal had agreed with him that staying at home would probably be the best way for him to take a vacation. He didn't need the stresses of traveling.

Staying here at home would allow him to do all the things he most enjoyed doing -- walks with his dogs, going fishing, relaxing at home with a good book -- and he wouldn't have to leave the place that made him feel the most safe and secure.

That was what a vacation was all about, right? he asked himself. Feeling relaxed and comfortable, letting all of his worries drift away and simply enjoying himself.

Though Will had to wonder if he would ever truly be able to do that.

He still felt too pressured to capture the killer that the FBI had been after for so long, too caught up in that to let himself fully relax.

Even when he was here fishing, when he should be at his most comfortable, there was always that little niggling thought in the back of his mind that he should be working; he should be doing something to catch the Chesapeake Ripper, not taking time off.

Hannibal would disagree with that, he knew. Even Jack would, now that Hannibal had explained to him that Will was starting to crack around the edges.

Will had to smile bitterly at that; it had taken Hannibal's words to convince Jack that he was burning out, that he needed some time off. Will himself hadn't been able to do that convincing; Jack hadn't listened to him, had simply steamrolled over his words.

Yet _Hannibal_ had been able to convince Jack that Will needed a break, that he was going to end up as nothing but a useless husk if he didn't take some time away.

Everyone would listen to Hannibal, but never to him.

There were times when he felt as though he was being pulled in all directions, like a piece of taffy, with no thought given as to what that was doing to him.

No one cared how he felt, or what he needed. No one thought of the effects that any of this had on him, only of what they could get out of him.

And when they were done with him, they would discard him, throw him away, toss him aside like a used tissue. He had always known that the FBI could be callous and that their main objective was to catch the criminals they were after, but he hadn't realized that it would be at his expense.

Sometimes he hated what he did, hated being part of the FBI, hated using his abilities to help people who didn't give a damn about what it did to him.

Will sighed softly, closing his eyes and resting his chin on his knees. At least he was here, on vacation, rather than having to deal with yet another dead body.

That would happen again all too soon -- the merry-go-round would start up again, and Jack would expect to be able to trot him out to perform for him, to lead him to a killer who seemed to be ever more elusive, a killer who was always at least one step ahead of them.

He was becoming more and more burnt out the longer they worked on this case; the frustration was getting to him, more than it seemed to be with anyone else.

No one gave a damn, Will told himself. If he burned out, they would just leave him on the side of the road, a smoldering husk that was no longer of any use to them.

The FBI didn't care. Jack didn't care. There was only person who did.

Hannibal cared about what happened to him, whether he burned out or not. Hannibal knew how much all of this was affecting him, the toll it was taking on him.

Hannibal was the one who had pushed for him to take a vacation, who had managed to get him this time off. And he was eternally grateful for it, even though the enforced inactivity wasn't exactly what he wanted, either. He wished there was a happy medium that he could find.

Either he was working himself too hard, or he felt as though he was doing nothing. There had to be a point between those two extremes; he just had to find it.

Maybe Hannibal could help him with that, Will told himself, his spirits rising at the thought. He had given the other man an open invitation to come here to Wolf Trap if he had some time off, or if he simply wanted to get away for a while. Maybe Hannibal would enjoy being here.

And if he was here, then Will would have someone he could talk with, someone he was coming to feel that he could trust and open up to.

If Hannibal spent some time here, maybe Will could finally see behind his mask.

That was really why he wanted to spend time with Hannibal, wasn't it? To get to know the other man better, to get a peek behind that facade he always wore.

Hannibal intrigued him more than he was willing to admit, to himself or to anyone else. He wanted to find out how the other man's mind worked, just what was hidden behind that enigmatic mask he presented to the world. Will wanted to dig deeper, to find the man behind that mask.

He had no idea just what he would find, but he wanted the chance to lift that mask and know the entire man, not just the face that he showed to everyone.

It felt as though Hannibal had somehow set this up, arranged for him to have time away from work so they could meet here, on his turf, and he could once again take the lead in this complicated dance they were weaving their way through.

If that was so, then Will was more than ready to do that. It was his turn to guide them through the next few intricate steps, to make their way down the path they were treading.

He was ready to find out just where that path was leading them.


	12. Admitting the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will finally admits something to himself that he's known for a long time, but hasn't wanted to acknowledge.

Will blinked in the early morning light, staring up at the ceiling.

He'd actually slept last night. The entire night through, without waking up to toss and turn for a while. That amazed him, as it rarely ever happened.

Usually, the only time he slept the entire night through was when he was so exhausted that his body simply shut down and _demanded_ that he get some sleep.

But last night, he had actually gone to bed at a little after midnight because he'd felt tired, and his eyes had blurred so much while he was reading that he had barely been able to see the page. He had thought that he wouldn't sleep for more than a couple of hours, but he'd been wrong.

He glanced over at the clock on his bedside table, surprised to see that it was past nine in the morning. Had he really slept for nine hours straight, without waking even once?

It appeared so. And that was a good sign, he told himself with a slight smile. It meant that he was starting to achieve some kind of balance, that he was regulating himself.

Hannibal would be proud of him.

Hannibal. The man he wanted to be closer to, the man he had a hard time keeping himself away from. The man he wanted in his life as more than a friend.

He'd thought that it might happen during this vacation, but Hannibal hadn't been here to see him, and he hadn't gone into Baltimore, not even for a psychiatric session.

Hannibal had told him that he should enjoy his time away from work, and that meant that he shouldn't worry himself about their sessions. He had told Will, in a rather stern voice, that he didn't expect to see him in Baltimore for two entire weeks, that he needed to thoroughly immerse himself in his free time.

How was he supposed to do that? Will thought with a sigh. Hannibal had to know that his brain didn't work that way. He was always looking for something to do.

The only time that he could completely relax was when he was fishing, but he couldn't do that twenty-four hours a day. He had to have some other kind of distraction.

Hannibal could always distract him from whatever he'd had to deal with at work; he could always focus on the other man and let himself be led into new avenues of thought. No one else had that ability; no one else could hold his attention so thoroughly, intrigue him so completely.

But then, Hannibal wasn't like anyone else he'd ever known. He was a different animal entirely from any other human being that Will had ever met.

That was part of his fascination, wasn't it? Will sighed, closing his eyes again and turning over onto his side, tucking one hand under the pillow, beneath his cheek.

He might as well admit the truth to himself.

He was interested in Hannibal in ways that went far beyond friendship. He hadn't wanted to admit it, but there it was. He wanted to become romantically involved with Hannibal.

The problem was, he had no idea whether or not Hannibal could feel the same way about him. From all that he'd seen, Hannibal thought of him as a friend, and nothing more.

He'd known for a long time that he wanted more than friendship from Hannibal, but he'd never let himself admit that fact. He had tried to close the door on those desires, but the more he was around Hannibal, the stronger they became. So maybe it was a good thing that he hadn't seen the other man in a few days.

Would Hannibal come here? Will asked himself, his stomach tightening and his heart beating more rapidly at the thought. Would Hannibal miss him enough to want to check on him?

So far, he hadn't -- bu then, it had only been four days. Hannibal probably hadn't wanted to encroach on his privacy; he'd stayed away because he thought that Will needed some time alone.

What he really needed was some time with Hannibal.

Why hadn't he realized this before now? Will asked himself. He almost smiled at that question; the truth was that he had always known, he just hadn't let himself admit it.

This vacation wasn't going to be truly relaxing until he saw Hannibal. He knew that. For some reason, he _needed_ to see the other man to feel truly relaxed, to feel that the time he'd taken off work would be worth it. Being here alone wasn't going to make him happy.

He obviously wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep, now that his thoughts were on Hannibal. Will sighed, kicking back the covers and sitting up.

Maybe he should call Hannibal today. Just to talk to someone.

The thought made him smile. Would Hannibal be surprised by that call -- or would he think that it was inevitable that Will would be tired of his own company?

It didn't matter what Hannibal thought. He _would_ call the other man today -- and maybe do something a little crazy, like invite him to come here for dinner.

Will stood up, stretching, wondering if Hannibal would accept that offer.

He reached for his cell phone, clicking it on. He would find out in just a few minutes.


	13. An Interesting Experiment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal hopes that having dinner with Will may bring some things out in the open between them.

"Yes, Will, I would love to have dinner with you."

Hannibal smiled as he spoke the words, reflecting on just how true they were. He had missed seeing Will for the past few days; having dinner with him would be a pleasure.

He didn't even mind driving out all the way to Wolf Trap to do so. He knew how to get to Will's house; he'd been there a few times before, and he actually found the drive to the country pleasant and soothing. He couldn't live so far from the city, of course, but it was a relaxing place.

And he would be alone with Will. They would have some privacy, which was something that he'd wanted for a long time. He had some things to say to the other man.

Things that could only be said while they were alone.

They had privacy in their sessions at his home, of course, but he never felt that they were completely alone when they were in the city. Someone could always stop by.

He didn't worry about that happening in Wolf Trap. Will's house was remote enough to know that there wouldn't be any knocks on the door, or surprise visitors. They could have complete privacy, and he could talk to Will about some things that had been on his mind lately.

There were things that needed to be said.

Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing in the world to open himself to Will too much, but he wanted to do so. He wanted to move forward in the nascent relationship that was building between the two of them; he wanted to push the envelope, and to find out if Will might return his feelings.

As much as he hated to admit it, Will was his weakness. His growing feelings for the younger man were a chink in his armor that he couldn't afford to have.

But those feelings were undeniable, and they were only getting stronger.

He wasn't entirely sure just when he'd started to feel this way about Will, and he didn't intend to question his feelings. He was going to follow them, and see where they might lead.

Hannibal had no idea if Will felt the same or not; the young man hadn't really shown any indication that he felt more than friendship. But he would observe Will carefully over their next few meetings; that should give him some idea of whether or not those emotions were returned.

If they were, then perhaps the two of them had a future together.

A future where Will became not his weakness, but his strength. That idea appealed to Hannibal; he wanted to follow it, to see where that path might take them.

"Ill see you in a couple of hours, Will," he said, smiling as he spoke. "I won't be long."

With those words, he clicked the phone off, picked up his car keys, and shrugged into his coat. 

This would be an interesting experiment, and hopefully more.


End file.
